


How Thorki Is Your Chicken

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Chickens, Crack, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with someone opening the door on something they weren’t supposed to have seen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Thorki Is Your Chicken

It was the perfect time for a practical joke. Like a fool, Loki had told Thor not to bother looking for him, as he would be occupied the entire morning with studying in the most obscure depths of the Great Library.

Thor probably should have checked with Heimdall first, to confirm; When he snuck into Loki's chambers, he found Loki very much there, and in the process of beheading a chicken over a large copper bowl.

“Loki, what are you doing?” he roared, and startled Loki so badly that he dropped the knife, which clattered on the rim of the bowl, as well as the remainder of the chicken, which ran in a headless frenzy past Thor, out of the room, and into the corridor, leaving a speckled trail of blood as it went.

“When the scribes record the legend of your fearlessness and might in battle,” Loki said through gritted teeth, “I do hope they will find room for a footnote about your exquisite timing.”

Thor strode towards Loki's workbench, piled high with books and magical implements. “I'm sorry, I was sure you would not be here at all. But what is all this? I'd never have suspected that you would stoop to the primitive old rituals. It is certainly not Mother's way.”

Loki side-stepped, to put himself between Thor and the book he'd been consulting. “Never mind what I'm doing.” But Thor had caught sight of a lurid illustration on the open page, before Loki had managed to block his view.

“Why Loki, is this a love potion you're concocting?”

“No,” Loki spat.

“Then based on the picture, it must be some sort of sinister ritual to create an _actual_ beast with two backs.”

“Nothing of the kind.”

“There is no need to lie to me. In fact, I have a guess about who this love potion is for.”

Loki looked sideways at Thor, snorting derisively, hoping that a little sibling rivalry would end this line of conversation. “Just like four hundred years ago, when you had a 'guess' that hunting down and bringing home a Dvergarian Stink-Beast would be a suitable birthday gift for Mother?”

Thor could not be diverted. He moved an inch closer to Loki, affectionately tucking a stray strand of hair behind Loki's ear. “My guess _today_ is that your love potion is intended for _me_ , dear brother. Has my ability to surmise improved?”

He knew immediately that he was correct. All Loki's talents for deceit seemed to disintegrate with the possibility that his deepest, darkest wish might come true, and all he could do was avert his eyes and swallow hard.

“Oh Loki, how could you not have known that you never needed a love potion to get me into your bed? You only needed to ask.”

Loki wasn’t sure he could believe this. He offered cautiously, “Why did you never tell me?”

But Thor only smiled his guileless smile. “I confess, it amused me to see you squirm so, having this graceless desire and finding yourself unable to act upon it. But now everything is out in the open, and I shall show you how willingly I'll become your bed partner.” Thor took up the copper bowl, in which honey and aphrodisiacal herbs mingled in the chicken's blood, and lifted it to his lips.

“No, don't do that, it–!”

“There is no need to feign ambivalence anymore,” Thor said, and proceeded to drink deeply. Loki continued to protest, and tried to pull the bowl from his hands, but to no avail. At last, Thor dropped the bowl, empty, onto the workbench. “Today is the day that I shall fulfill your every desire!” he bellowed, and lifted Loki into a bridal carry and hauled him easily into the next room, where Loki's colossal, fur-covered bed awaited.

Two minutes and one satisfied grunt later, they lay with their remaining clothes askew, on their backs and staring awkwardly at the ceiling.

“I was _trying_ to tell you,” Loki said, “that when someone who is already smitten with you drinks the potion, it causes them to be...premature.”

Thor admitted, “This has been a tragedy.”

“Perhaps a greater tragedy,” Loki sighed in reply, “is that that was the last Asgardian prairie chicken in existence.”

“Does that mean that no one will be able to create a potion ever again that will make someone fall in love with them?”

“Yes. But that part is probably a good thing. I mean,” Loki waved a hand in the air, to indicate his disdain, “now that I think of it, doing that to someone is even creepier than what we just did, and we're _brothers._ ”

“Adopted brothers.”

“That's the only thing that keeps it less creepy.” Loki rolled onto his side, to face Thor. “Now, how soon before we can give it another try?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a set of prompts I got from my followers on Tumblr as part of a fic-fest. I mixed up all the prompts and wrote the results. The prompts for this fic were as follows:
> 
> (someone who wished to remain anonymous): It all starts with someone opening the door on something they weren’t supposed to have seen.  
> battleangel25: And then suddenly a chicken runs in front of them.  
> round--robin: There's a great deal of shouting.  
> [And then they have sex.]  
> thehats: But the important thing is that the story is very tragic.


End file.
